Eighty.
I stared at the number. Then at Seraphine — at the way her body shifted on the bedroll, the way her hips pressed together, the way her thighs rubbed against each other in her sleep, the unconscious motion of a woman whose body was running hot and whose mind was feeding the fire with dreams she would not admit to having.
'You really want a fuck, huh, Seraphine?'
The thought was a crooked, amused thing, and it settled in my chest with the warmth of a secret. Eighty arousal — higher than the sisters, higher than Mirra, higher than Elwen, who had my cum still in her mouth. The woman who projected the image of the disciplined, untouchable warrior was, beneath the silver armor and the military bearing, the horniest woman in the room.
